"James Rollins - Sandstorm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Romeyn Henry)

The radio barked in his hand:тАЬHarry, get out of there!тАЭ

He didnтАЩt argue. He swung around but was too late.

The glass enclosure exploded outward. Stabbing spears pierced his left side. A jagged shard sliced clear
through his cheek. But he barely felt the cuts as a wave of blast-furnace heat struck him, searing, burning
away all the oxygen.

A scream lay upon his lips, never to be aired.

The next explosion ripped Harry from his feet and threw his body clear across the gallery. But only
flaming bones hit the security gate, melting themselves into the steel grating.

01:53 A.M.

SAFIA AL-MAAZawoke in a dead panic. Sirens rang from all directions. Flashes of red emergency
lights strobed the bedroom walls. Terror gripped her in a vise. She could not breathe; cold sweat
pebbled her brow, squeezed from her tightening skin. Clawed fingers clutched the bedsheets to her
throat. Unable to blink, she was trapped for a moment between the past and the present.

Sirens blaring, blasts echoing in the distanceтАжand closer still, screams of the wounded, the dying, her
own voice adding to the chorus of pain and shockтАж

Bullhorns boomed from the streets below her flat. тАЬClear out for the engines! Everyone pull back!тАЭ

EnglishтАжnot Arabic, not HebrewтАж

A low rumble rolled past her apartment building and off into the distance.

The voices of the emergency crews drew her back to her bed, back to the present. She was in London,
not Tel Aviv. A long strangled breath escaped her. Tears rose to her eyes. She wiped them with shaky
fingers.

Panic attack.

She sat wrapped in her comforter for several more breaths. She still felt like crying. It was always this
way, she told herself, but the words didnтАЩt help. She gathered the woolen comforter around her
shoulders, eyes closed, heart hammering in her ears. She practiced the breathing and calming exercises
taught to her by her therapist. Inhale for two counts, out for four. She let the tension flow away with each
breath. Her cold skin slowly warmed.

Something heavy landed on her bed. A small sound accompanied it. Like a squeaky hinge.

She reached out a hand, met by a purring welcome. тАЬCome here, Billie,тАЭ she whispered to the
overweight black Persian.

Billie leaned into her palm and rubbed the underside of his chin across SafiaтАЩs fingers, then simply
collapsed across her thighs as if the invisible strings supporting the cat had been sliced. The sirens must
have disturbed him from his usual nighttime haunting of her flat.